Day 3- junkies warming hands burning the carcass of copper choked pipes. Hard cocked cocks drag the crippled kids out for sport. Shouting cheers for the home team, your soul burns beneath crack infested flesh. Pitted pores drowning amongst coke fried milk, grease slides upon the sick dying minds where the healing of God- choose a God, never finds its feet. Fumbling ambition, lost on the turf once admired. Winning lost its reality win death found a home.
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